and the walls gently drowned in the jazz tunes. David had a few minutes before the meeting. He went to his desk, carefully took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. He was wondering what was in the bottom drawer of his desk, in which he had not looked in the last five years.
At the bottom of the box lay a black little notebook. David had a bashful drop of sweat on his high forehead. He already forgot that he kept a diary, although it was only a few years ago. He forgot with what jealousy he opened this notebook every evening. With what anger he wrote all these words. And a strange thing happened at that moment. His left hand had already opened a drawer to hide this notebook and not be upset. And the right hand opened the notebook and, angered at the left hand, began to drive with it`s index finger on the most keen moments of this story.
1st of May. 20**
It makes no sense to refute the idea that in the world on equal rights there is beauty, goodness, wealth with poverty, wretchedness, ugliness. Plunging into the literature, people think they are getting smart. However, their world becomes more limited with each book they read. You absorb, like a sponge, the worlds of people with whom you have never been familiar. You live a strange life. And from your own you refuse.
Although, what does it have to do with it?
History is not that it is.
The fact is that I do not believe in love. And this unbelief for me is the purest and lightest stronghold. I believe in myself. I believe in the elastic breasts of Anna. I believe in her stupidity. I believe in my light. I believe all this. And I do not really want to believe in your boredom. So it turns out ....
Stop. Enough. David blew out the candles, angrily threw a small black notebook into the trash can. It was time for him to go. Behind the doors of his small apartment… she was waiting for him.
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